


Unfamiliar Lands

by Solrosfalt



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: As you do, Character Study, FE Gen Week, FE Gen Week 2020, Female Friendship, Fire Emblem: Geneaology of the Holy War Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon Spoilers, Forest Walks, Gen, how does summoning work? idk headcanon time, i'm guilty, implied Minerva/Palla, just two wyvern ladies becoming friends, okay so maybe i just wanted my favs to interact, some references to canon-typical violence in dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/pseuds/Solrosfalt
Summary: “Your strength is impressive”, Altena admitted, and Minerva gave her an embarrassed smile.“Some say that’s my only redeeming quality.”“I highly doubt that’s true. You seem like a fine person to me.”---Altena finds someone who understands her in all of Askr's confusion, and perhaps their similarities will lay a groundwork for a long-lasting friendship.
Relationships: Minerva & Altena (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: Fire Emblem Gen Week 2020





	Unfamiliar Lands

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic when Altena joined FEH, but I saved it for fegenweek2020. My head hurts from writing something similar to a crossover fic for the first time but it was worth it I love wyvern ladies and especially these two and I think they'd be great friends.

To truly know one’s self was a rare mastery in a world built on secrets. To even shallowly understand or imagine what one’s true self could have become, that was not just a rare mastery – it was impossible.

Altena had accepted that she might never unveil everything about herself as she was now, so to even begin to step into the realm of ‘ _what if_ ’, that was madness.

And yet she could not avoid it. Not in this place.

She’d walked the soft grass of Askr for a mere two days, and in that time, different versions of herself had looked her in the eye. One of them had frowned in disgust, the second one had a face softened with concern. Like twins, their scars were not in the same places as hers.

Both of those twins had been sent away. In Askr, soldiers were summoned out of magelight and fanfare, but not all of them were strong enough to be allowed to stay. What dictated that strength was unbeknownst to Altena, and would so remain, although she wondered whether or not she’d be next, and if she’d even grieve if that were the case.

This place was strange, like a walking dream. When, or if, she returned to her old world, she’d have no memory or experience of this place, and no time would have passed. She was a fragment, a shadow from a particular moment in a particular river of time.

Almost every single soldier was summoned in such a way, and it was sickening. They were like mirrors that promised much but could only ever be a reflection. They weren’t real. Altena’s mother, who had not yet known death’s cruel touch, had tried to reach out to her, and Altena ran away from her at full speed. Her father had tried to make eye-contact, alive and strong, and Altena had looked the other way. _They weren’t real_.

The change in Altena’s own world had been confusing enough. With the entire continent engulfed in war, Altena had chosen to stand with her father, with _Thracia_ , and that was when the lie that was her life had begun to shatter.

The last thing she’d remembered had been Leif reaching out his hand with a sorrowful smile and telling her the truth. She was the heir to an old, long-dead enemy house, and the boy before her was her brother.

‘ _You don’t have to believe me_ ’, he’d said, ‘ _but please don’t fight us. Let us pass.’_

Leif, with brown hair just like hers, with a rose-colored tint in dark eyes. Altena, with the lance of Njörun alive in her hand… Crusader heritance wasn’t easily deciphered, but once she’d heard the words spoken out loud, she’d realized the woman she’d thought she’d been didn’t exist.

She’d decided to fight with him to unite Jugdral - for Leonster and Thracia to finally live without hatred, and she’d lowered her lance and looked him in the eye, about to tell him this… And the next thing she knew, she stood hunched in the middle of an Askran summoning circle with every color of the rainbow in her veins.

A Hero, the summoners had called her.

Truly, nothing made sense. Altena couldn’t be further from it. She was a traitor to both her birth and her home just by existing. She was a gust in the storm of intrigue, and the more she learned of the many possible fates of her world, the more ill she felt. And her true mother smiling and waving at her from across the dining hall didn’t help one bit. _She wasn’t real_.

There was one place in Askr that felt safe and familiar, and that was the stables. The Askrans were on their way to build an enclosure for the wyverns to move in, but for now every mount rested in the same orderly boxes beneath a wooden roof, pegasi and horse and wyvern alike.

The stables was a place of stillness, especially in early morning. Not many others would be up when the sun had barely risen, so that was where Altena hid to find some amount of peace.

She put her hand on Gil’s snout, and the wyvern responded with a snort. She smiled at the familiarity. He hadn’t changed by the summons, and for that Altena was endlessly grateful. She still had her friend with her.

She rested her arm on the walls of the box, and absentmindedly reached out for one of the carrots in a crate beside her. She munched on it slowly, scratching Gil’s chin.

Another wyvern’s head popped up behind a wall, jet black and with piercing blue eyes that stared at Altena with a slight squint.

Altena stared back, a frown growing on her forehead.

“I think she’s judging you”, a deep, amused voice said, and as Altena looked over her shoulder, another soldier appeared from outside with her arms full of trout. “I apologize. My Hera has strong feelings about many things, carrots among them.”

Altena glanced down on her carrot, and when she looked up again, the stranger’s wyvern kept staring at her so intently, Altena put the carrot in her pocket instead. That seemed to please the wyvern, and when the stranger released the trout into the manger, the wyvern put all her focus there.

“Why carrots?” Altena asked, and the stranger shrugged.

“Crunchy noises, I believe. She isn’t fond of walking on pebbles for the same reason.”

Being brought up in Thracia, Altena had met hundreds of wyverns in her days. Every single one was different, with quirks of their own. Just like people.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you”, the stranger said with a polite nod. Her build was so large that timid movements seemed out of place with her. Altena had always been tall, taller than even her adoptive brother, and yet she merely reached the stranger’s shoulders.

“The stables are for everyone”, Altena answered with a similar nod. “You do not disturb me.”

It wasn’t just politeness; it was the truth. Being surrounded by summoned soldiers with dazzling cloaks and compassionate hearts and talkative minds was exhausting, but this one had a different kind of aura. One that didn’t exhaust her. With a harsh bend of her brow and many scars, the stranger didn’t look like the typical overwhelming hero, and the more villainous ones in their army didn’t act like her either – they condescended, they boasted, they pushed their way forward, and they’d welcomed her adoptive father with open arms.

She didn’t like thinking of that, nor of him. She crossed her arms and regarded the stranger instead.

“If I may ask”, Altena said with a tilt of her head; “what brings another to the wyvern stables at this hour?”

The stranger chuckled, but it was a sorrowful kind of laughter. “I’m making sure to not be here at the same time as my brother. That never goes well.” She gestured at another small enclosure, with a giant sleeping wyvern curled up in a corner. “That’s Gallius. My brother brought him to battle against me. It is strange to see the wyvern alive, since the day of the battle, I killed it.”

Altena frowned. “Family can be complicated.”

“Most certainly”, the stranger agreed. “Especially when they’re summoned from a time before I was. The day I was brought to this place, Michalis – that’d be my brother – tried to give me orders with old bygone threats, and I broke a desk over his head. That was two months ago, and he still hasn’t learned that I will retaliate.”

Altena noticed sores on the stranger’s knuckles. They were pretty fresh, and she could puzzle those two pieces together easily. Whoever this Michalis was, she felt a bit sorry for him for being on the receiving end of this stranger.

“He usually lets me be when my dear Palla is around”, the stranger continued. “But she’s out on a mission since yesterday. Hence, I prefer to spend my morning here, to avoid any confrontations.”

“Two months”, Altena said, her chest tight. “I understand being in Askr doesn’t get easier with time, then?”

The stranger smiled at her. “I haven’t seen you before, so I assume you’re new. We’ve all been there, and my answer is both yes and no. Everyone here has some quarrel with at least one other summoned soldier, and you do find peace in that chaos eventually, but the chaos itself remains.”

Altena held back a grimace and stroked Gil’s neck as his head rested on her shoulder. “I think I’ll prefer to spend my all mornings here, henceforth. Wyverns are easier than people.”

“I couldn’t agree more”, the stranger smiled, and wiped trout water off her hand before she reached it toward Altena. “I am queen Minerva of Macedon. Many here still call me ‘ _princess’_ , although be that as it may, I prefer for called me by my name and nothing more. Pleased to make acquaintance of a fellow wyvern knight.”

Altena was no stranger to the idea of being both royalty and wyvern knight, as that was the Tracian way, so that queens spent their free time in the stables came as no surprise. She took the outstretched hand.

“The pleasure is mine. I am Altena, princess of Thracia and Leonster. And this here is Gil.”

“A marvellous creature, to be sure”, Minerva smiled at Gil’s gentle eyes.

Anyone who recognized Altena’s wyvern as the amazing, brave mount he was had good judgement. Definitely someone worth her time, and perhaps even worth to consider as an ally. That was something Altena dearly needed amidst all this novelty, but everyone else had deterred her and she refused to speak with anyone with roots in Jugdral… Perhaps she could find a kindred soul even in such strange a place as this.

“I am nearly finished here, but could you be so kind and assist me?” Altena smiled at Minerva and gestured at one of the heavy meat crates. “Gil has an appetite, and I’d hate to leave her hungry.”

“No trouble at all”, Minerva beamed – when her face softened, she still looked terrifying, but it was a kinder sort of terrifying. She hoisted the crate up into her arms with ease and broke open the lid with callused fingers before she hurled the contents into Gil’s manger. She did it with such eagerness too, an unbridled joy in being helpful.

“Your strength is impressive”, Altena admitted, and Minerva gave her an embarrassed smile.

“Some say that’s my only redeeming quality.”

“I highly doubt that’s true. You seem like a fine person to me.”

Minerva shook her head, still with the same smile on her face. She looked like she’d say something else, but she halted and looked out through the slit of a window beside her instead.

Altena mirrored her, and saw a group of armed soldiers walk toward them from the castle, and she recognized King Travant among them. _Liar, murderer, liar, father, liar, LIAR—_

“Would you like to walk with me?” Minerva asked hastily. “I am finished as well, and company would be nice.”

She’d read Altena’s panicked mind. Altena did not want to clash with her adoptive father right then. Although it wasn’t nearly as bad as breaking a desk over his head, she had too many questions and too much anger to ask them. He wasn’t someone who revelled in violence, and a caring king and father, and yet he had her parent’s blood on his hands. _Why_ he’d done it, she knew. Why he hadn’t told her, why he had enacted such hatred toward Leonster, that was what she wanted to know. Some other day. In the real world.

Altena threw her cloak over her simple clothing, and scanned the rest of the group on the road toward them, and realized why Minerva was in such a hurry to leave as well.

Among them was a man with flaming hair just like Minerva’s, one who towered over all the other wyvern knights among him. He had sores around his cheeks and a bruise on his jaw, but he still walked with a harsh frown and a merciless gleam in his eye. He was close enough for Altena to see his smirk, like a challenge to all around him. He was the best among them, and all should know it. Ironically, the other three wyvern knights all carried the same expression and surely the same conviction.

Minerva opened the door with one last look over her shoulder, and showed Altena to a road opposite the one leading to the castle, and Altena breathed out in relief as she reached the safety of a forest park without the malicious-looking group noticing them.

“Your brother didn’t look very kind”, Altena said, and Minerva sighed.

“He tends not to”, she answered. “He’s a complicated person, to say the least. Most of his quarrels are with me, but I’d advise you to steer clear of him. On second thought, stay clear of every single one in that lot. They will not be kind to you.”

Altena nodded thoughtfully. “I recognized the blond and shallow one among them. He approached me very rudely yesterday.”

“That’s Narcian”, Minerva said, and her face twisted in disgust. “He tests the newcomers, unfortunately. If you respond by stabbing him, no one will judge you.”

“Good to know”, Altena said. “Because I did. In the knee.”

“Well done. That ought to do it.”

Altena heard King Travant’s voice over the trees, and it caused her gut to twist. Subconsciously, she quickened her pace, and Minerva kept up with her.

“Yourself excluded, none of my encounters with wyvern knights have been very nice so far. One with an eye-patch fell asleep with his head in my soup on my first day here, and I wish my adoptive brother was here to even out the quota a bit.“

Minerva smiled. “I’d argue you’ve merely been unlucky, Altena. You have yet to meet Cherche and Camilla. They’re eccentric, yes, but no less nice. They’d welcome you with open arms if you let them.”

“I don’t know”, Altena said with a shake of her head. “I think I just want to go home, honestly. This is… too much.”

“I felt the same way my first weeks here”, Minerva admitted. “So many faces that were familiar to me, but their experiences were not necessarily the ones I expect because they’re from different times and places. I met a version of a dear friend of mine called Marth – I’m sure you’ve met him, he makes sure to greet everyone he doesn’t recognize – either way, _this_ Marth I’m talking about came from a time and place where his beloved had fallen during his final battle against the dragon emperor. He’d won, but at such a cost, when he saw Caeda here… healthy, laughing… it nearly drove him mad with grief before he was released from this place. I tried to comfort him but that was to no avail, seeing as he blamed the Minerva he’d known for her death.”

Minerva paused, frowning up into the sky where the people with the ability to change shape into herons that laughed together, like white shining stars in the morning light.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is this… Askr is a place for opportunity, for learning, and for insurmountable pain and confusion. I’ve had future versions of my sister tell me my fate in ten years, I’ve had versions of those I considered my friends try to kill me because to them I was still the enemy. I was incredibly lucky to have the Palla I know from my origins turn up in the same place as me, but I can imagine the potential awkwardness if she hadn’t been. What if I kissed her, and she’d shake her head and tell me she didn’t feel that way about me where she came from? It’s an odd thought.”

Altena’s heart felt heavy in her chest. “I know what you speak of. My mother and father are here, and they are both from the past. If I understand correctly, my mother was summoned the moment before… before I lost her. She held me as a three-year-old child the instant before she died, and now she’s here and she has been for almost a year. And then I show up, fully grown. It’s… It’s so strange, honestly. She could very well be my true mother from the same river of time as me, but it doesn’t matter. I still can’t look at her.”

Minerva nodded, and didn’t seem like she judged her at all for saying such things. “It’s like playing pretend with death.”

“Exactly so”, Altena continued. “My father’s here too, right by my brother Leif, and they both look like they get along so well. Leif’s accepted the impossibility, but I can’t. I don’t deserve to. He grew up hearing stories of our parents’ courage and valor and love – I grew up hearing stories of the monsters of Leonster, finally slain. It’s easier to think of my parents as mere projections, and not at all real.”

“Granted, I know very little about your personal stories”, Minerva said. “And were I to meet my father here looking alive and healthy, I’m not sure how I’d react, either. But I’m sure your parents would love the chance to speak to you, and you definitely _deserve_ to know them. If your heart longs for answers, I don’t think you should deny yourself the chance.”

Minerva smiled and rubbed her chin. “Ah, listen to me. I don’t mean you should force yourself or stress the process. Askr is a lot to get used to as it is, without ghosts from the past.”

The castle region was slowly waking up around them. Sixteen sword units stood in a row on a meadow further up, all dressed in completely different attire, and they followed the movements from a blue-haired young woman with a circlet – clearly the leader of this exercise. And she shone with an aura Altena could barely fathom; the image of what she considered a hero to humankind.

Altena couldn’t be further from it.

“I don’t think I can get used to it”, she told Minerva. “My parents are one thing, but to be called a _hero_ – I don’t understand any of that.”

Minerva hummed thoughtfully. “Considering my brother is here, I gather that their definition of someone worthy of summoning is either someone of great influence, great strength, or someone who lingered in history. Our army has farmhands, mercenaries, royalty—some cruel, some compassionate.”

 _And I’m neither_ , Altena thought to herself.

“I can see how someone like you could carry that title”, Altena argued. “But I feel much too… insignificant to be a part of this.”

Minerva raised her brows and looked at her directly, a darkness looming within. “You assume too much. I’ve never been deserving of such a title. I forged my own path, so I suppose that is why I’m here—but that path was one through treason and death. Not a sparkly tale.”

“It’s not?”

“Definitely not.” Minerva’s voice was tenser now, and for a moment Altena wondered if she’d overstepped, but that doubt was laid to rest as Minerva continued; “I turned my back on my kingdom as it was ruled by my brother, but only after six years of opposing those I wanted to fight alongside. And once a traitor such as me could be welcomed as a Macedonan again, I had the impossible task to unite and fix all that had been broken. With some exceptions, I had nowhere I belonged – I had killed hundreds upon hundreds, on both sides. My tale cannot be painted as one of heroics, because it is splattered with unjustly spilled blood.”

 _Hudnreds upon hundreds?_ Altena felt her shoulders tense. She had killed, to be sure, but no more than a few dozen, and that made her feel like she was undeserving to stand among the smiling, kind heroes in this world. But perhaps they too had blood on their hands, and perhaps they too held doubts. Altena thought back on all the stories of the battles of old that her adoptive father had shared, and she could see the glaring holes in them caused by glorification and over-simplification.

“I think all heroic tales are bloodstained”, Altena swallowed. “The sparkly ones are dishonest, and you seem to be far from it, Minerva.”

“That’s nice of you to say”, Minerva said and met her eye with a small smile. The tenseness in her voice was gone as quick as it had come.

“My tale is similar”, Altena explained. “I was born to one family and raised by its enemies without knowing. I had to choose to go against my adoptive father in the end. And I’d imagine not everyone will be fully understanding of that decision. My adoptive brother among them.”

“Family can be complicated”, Minerva repeated back to her, just as Altena had said it before. “I’m sorry you’d have to face such hardships.”

The earnest tone in her voice soothed the lump in Altena’s throat, and the noise from the sword practice slowly ebbed out as they walked further along the forest path.

“Did it feel to you like the right thing?” Altena asked. “When you changed sides, I mean.”

“Without the shadow of a doubt”, Minerva answered.

“Then I can only wish to one day share such conviction. I still feel divided.”

“No path is the exact same, as is evident by this place. And no path is ever perfect, either. I wish you peace in the decisions you make. Both here and, eventually, back in your home.”

 _Back in her home_. Oddly enough, Altena didn’t long for it as much at the moment. The breeze was fresh, and slowly warmed by the sun. This was no dream – it was real, strange as it may be. And in this chaos, Altena had found someone who seemingly understood her. She knew far too little of Minerva to call her a friend, but in time, she had no doubt she’d become one.

Askr offered her plenty of time, after all. Perhaps she could get accustomed to this. She could take the steps necessary to fill the longing void for a family she’d never known. She could speak to legends like Lachesis Lionheart and Ayra of Isaach. She could become one deserving of a hero’s title and stand beside her little brother, protecting him just like she’d sworn herself to do in her world.

But now she was content just walking through the forest park alongside a fellow wyvern knight. On this little forest path in Askr, things needn’t be very complicated, and thank Njörun for that.


End file.
